Dovie Carr (flightydove) wrote in undeadsiegeic, @ 2014-12-28 12:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | christien, dovie |
WHO: Dovie and Chris
WHERE: Hotel.
WHEN: December 28th, 2014; afternoon
WHAT: Dovie and Chris decide to pitch in and sort supplies - more talking than sorting is happening, though.
How exactly she got roped into spending her afternoon amongst a sea of boxes, Dovie wasn’t entirely sure. Some overly chipper stranger had asked her if she would help out and at the time it had seemed like a good idea - or at least an activity that would contend with the mind numbing boredom that was threatening to swallow her whole. As a writer one would think that slow moments would be the opportune moment to sit down and put words to paper - except things had been so dull for Dovie that she didn’t have anything to write about. That was a lie. She had things to write about, a lot of things, actually. Those things just didn’t fit together yet, so the challenge was finding the connecting thread. Sure, she could make it easy and do multiple stories in one book without much of a connection, beyond of course the obvious one - zombie island - but where was the interesting part in doing that? Her readers had come to expect a certain kind of writing from her and a certain way of telling a story. So her challenge now was finding that thread, that underlying thing that made each story fit together and make sense. Because right now if she stat down to write it, well, it was going to come off as some fictionalized dystopian heroine novel. Dovie wasn’t a fiction writer though, she had no interest in attempting a foray into the young adult market - and she knew what her readers would want to read about would be her experience on zombie island. The redhead knew she could piece everything together, possibly even take each chapter and write about the month as a whole - but what would really drive the story would be including other perspectives. Giving people glimpses into the experience as a whole and not just from one viewpoint - hers. So for the time being she wrote her stories down, but they were more singular and less book like. Half formed ideas, ones that truly needed more fleshing out - and that fleshing out would come in the form of other peoples stories and experiences thus far. Dovie knew she was going to need to turn into more of a journalist if she really wanted to achieve her vision for her next book...of course all of this energy placed towards writing and finishing a book would be useless if she never got a chance to pitch the idea. That was both a dismal thought and one for another day though. Today she was going to play the part of dutiful worker, even if the task was nearly as mind numbing as doing nothing - at least she had company doing this. And the possibility to gather other peoples stories to piece together into the half formed one she had already begun. What this was though, Dovie wasn’t one hundred percent certain of. The redhead had taken a seat on the ground in amongst piles of boxes - things from the recent supply drop she was assuming - and now she was pretty certain the thought process was to sort items….she may have tuned the overly chipper woman out after taking her seat on the ground. The piles of boxes had reminded her of a small city and she had been distracted by the thought that a mini godzilla coming in and wiping the boxes out would be amusing. “Wouldn’t house elves be better equipped to do this?” Dovie remarked to nobody in particular. “Because right now I’m pretty sure I have no idea if the want all the shampoo grouped together or if they want it separated by brands…” she trailed off as she spoke, glancing over at the person nearest her - a young man that she knew she had seen around before, but couldn’t place his name. “Of course house elves would need to be real in order for this whole thing to work,” Dovie was putting entirely too much thought into this. “And they’re not. So I guess Ms. Chipper is stuck with me screwing up her sorting system.” At this point she wasn’t even certain if the young man or anyone else was listening to her, but talking broke up the monotony. |